Way Down We Go
by SleepPatterns
Summary: Cause they will run you down, down till the dark / Yes and they will run you down, down till you fall / And they will run you down, down till you go / Yeah, so you can't crawl no more... Bobby/OC
1. Chapter One

**Chicago**

 _5:37 AM_

It was early. Really fucking early. Like, the sun wasn't even out yet, kind of early. And it was _definitely_ too damn early for her phone to be blowing up like it was.

With a groan, Deanna rolled over, untangling herself from her heavy comforter. Snatching her cell phone from the bedside table, she answered it with a rough and impatient, " _What_?"

" _Dee, baby, it's Jerry."_

"Jerry, brother, I love you, but it's five in the morning. Can't this wait until later? Preferably when it's not five in the fucking morning?"

" _You need to come home, Deanna. It's Ma."_

She could hear crying in the background and shot up out of bed."Wait, what? What's wrong with Ma?"

" _Baby girl, just listen, alright?"_ He paused, pulling in a shaky breath. " _She's gone. I don't know all the details yet, but-"_

Gone? Gone how? "Jerry, what do you mean she's gone? You mean, like, missing? Or-"

" _Dead, Dee. Ma's dead."_

The air felt like it had been sucked out of Deanna's lungs.

Dead. Evelyn Mercer was _dead_.

Before her knees buckled beneath her, Dee sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. She could hear her brother comforting one of her nieces, all while still trying to explain everything over the phone. " _I don't know much yet,"_ He sighed. " _It happened last night, down at the corner store that Ma always went to. From what Green told me, she was shot."_

She was murdered. Evelyn Mercer, the sweetest woman in all of Detroit, was murdered in cold blood less than a week from Thanksgiving.

How _dare_ they? How fucking _dare_ someone shoot her, a woman who pulled dozens of degenerate kids out of the slums of the system, herself included, showering them with love and care...and this is what she gets?

Suddenly, the familiar heat of rage coiled in the pit of her stomach. The kind of rage that gives your hands the shakes, and make a cold sweat break out on the back of your neck.

This was the kind of rage that got people hurt.

This was the kind of rage that got people _killed_.

Deanna really needed to get back to Detroit.

"Who else knows, Jerry?"

" _Just us and Jack. I tried calling Angel but got nothin', and Bobby-"_

Fuck. _Fuck_. "Have you called him yet?"

" _No, and I ain't looking forward to it,"_ He said honestly. " _Do you think he'll even-"_

"It's Ma, Jerry. Of course he will," Deanna murmured, running a hand through her choppy, black locks. "Just call him. He'll want to hear it from you."

" _Dee, maybe it would be better if he heard it from you. Y'all were always good like that."_

Had Deanna not just had her heart ripped out of her chest, she might have laughed. "I don't think the death of his mother is gonna be something that rekindles our relationship, Jerry," She sighed. "Listen, just give me a couple days. I'll be there for the funeral."

She snapped the phone shut and took a deep breath.

Evelyn _fucking_ Mercer.

* * *

 **Detroit**

 _Four Days Later_

Lieutenant Green, Detroit Police Department's finest officer, sat comfortably inside he and his partner's patrol car. They watched closely as the eldest Mercer cruised down the street in his old beater, staring down the two officers as he passed. "Wow," Green grimaced, "Been a long time since anybody seen that face 'round here."

His partner, Detective Fowler, glanced at Green. "Must've gotten off for good behavior."

Green shook his head. "Not likely," He pulled out a large stack of files from his briefcase and handed them to his partner. "Bobby Mercer. Heavyweight champion fuck-up of the family, and that's a well-defended title," He smirked. With all the trouble the oldest Mercer got himself into, he quickly became a household name in Detroit. "They called him the _Michigan Mauler._ "

Detective Fowler nodded, flipping through the other files.

Jack Mercer, the youngest.

Jeremiah Mercer, the man with a cause.

And, the only Mercer not present, Angel. The soldier.

The two officers sat quietly for a moment before Fowler glanced back down at the pile of folders. A fifth one remained in the pile, unopened. He seized the folder and turned the front page. "Damn," whistled Fowler. "Who's this?"

The lieutenant glanced down. "Oh," He smirked. "That's Deanna Cloud. She's _real_ special to the Mercer brothers."

Gray eyes. Sharp features. Plump lips. She looked like she came straight out of a magazine. She also looked like trouble.

"How so?"

Green chuckled. "They always called her the 'honorary' Mercer. She's been hangin' around them since she was a kid."

"She's got one hell of a record," noticed Fowler. " _Larceny, assault, possession._ Jesus. Why didn't Evelyn save this one, too?"

His partner shrugged. "No one really knows. The girl lived down the street from the Mercer's back when they were kids. Mom was a crackhead, and Dad was a thug, but CPS was never called. Guess they treated her well enough that nobody suspected any abuse."

"So, what's your point? What's she got to do with anything?"

"I don't think you're catchin' on, Fowler." Green sighed, collecting the woman's file from his partner's lap. "That girl is practically a Mercer. Deanna and Bobby, back in the day, those two were damn near inseparable," Green paused, still noticing the look of uncertainty on Fowler's face. He rolled his eyes. "Look, she and Evelyn were as close as Evelyn was with the rest of the boys. Believe me, besides Bobby, she'd be the first of the Mercer's I'd worry about."


	2. Chapter Two

Deanna didn't attend the funeral after all. She pulled up to the cemetery, saw the crowd of mourners dressed in black, and immediately high-tailed it to the nearest convenience store for a pack of Marlboro's. She had quit smoking a few months after she had left Detroit, and that had been years ago, but the anxious twist in her gut made her damn near itch for the nicotine.

She sat in the parking lot and cried herself through three cigarettes. She had no idea what she was doing, coming back here. There was nothing here for her, except heartache and trouble, and she'd had enough of that. She was angry and bitter, and so fucking sad, but most of all she felt empty. For so long, the only comfort she knew in life was that no matter what, Evelyn Mercer would always and unconditionally love and care for her; that there was nothing in the world that Deanna could say or do that would change that.

And now, she was just...gone. Dead. Buried deep down in the Michigan soil with nothing but her pearls and her rosary.

And for what?

Deanna didn't know, but she sure as hell wasn't leaving until she found out. She was damn sure of that.

Her phone buzzed loudly in her center console, and she nearly dropped her smoke in her lap. She saw the caller ID light up with Jerry's number and she took a breath. The funeral must have ended.

"Hey, Jer," She answered, trying to keep the rawness out of her voice.

" _I thought you were comin' to the funeral?"_ He asked softly. She could hear her nieces in the background. _"Jack was excited to see you."_

Deanna's throat tightened up. She should've gone. At least for Jackie. "I'm sorry, Jer, I was going to but...y'know."

" _Yeah, I know,"_ His voice was kind, but she could hear the sadness in its depths. _"Where you at now?"_

"The Marathon down the street from the cemetery, probably giving myself lung cancer as we speak." She snorted, taking another strong pull from her cigarette.

Jerry sighed through the speaker. _"Well, getcha ass over to my place. Camille cooked and the girls wanna see you."_

Deanna cracked a grin. "Yeah, I'll head that way. Need me to bring anything?"

" _Nah, just yourself. And, Dee?"_

"Yeah?"

" _Bobby's here."_

* * *

Jerry's home was warm, in more ways than one. Pictures of his family were hung sporadically throughout the house, showcasing his achievements as a husband, father, brother, and son. It wasn't easy to make something of yourself in this city, but he had managed to do just that, and to say that she was proud of Jerry was an understatement.

"Dee?"

Deanna turned straight into the chest of her youngest brother, Jack, who had easily grown a foot and a half since she'd last seen him. She grinned as his lanky arms trapped her in a hug. Deanna returned it fervently. "What's up, Jackie Boy?"

"Missed you," He mumbled quietly into her hair. She could feel the tense pull of his shoulders and the slight tremble of his hands. Her young, sweet Jackie was falling apart.

"I missed you, too," She murmured, pulling away from his hug and planting a solid kiss on the side of his head. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"And so do your brothers. And so did Ma."

He nodded, trying so hard to keep his bottom lip steady. Deanna pulled him back in for another crushing hug, trying equally as hard to hold it together for him. Finally, Jack stepped back, stuffing his fists into the pockets of his coat.

"How come you weren't there?" He asked quietly from behind his bangs.

"Where?"

"The funeral," Jack elaborated. "I mean, Jerry said you told him you were coming."

Deanna shrugged shamefully. "I don't do funerals, Jack," In other words, _I don't wanna see the only parental figure in my life being shoved in a box and put in the ground while people who didn't even know her cry like they did._ "You know that."

"Yeah, but–"

"Jackie, you know where I can get a decent cup of coffee?" said Deanna, quickly changing the subject. "We both know Jerry buys the good shit."

Jack nodded, and she followed him into the kitchen. A few of Evelyn's co-workers stood around the coffee maker, clucking like the old hens that they were. What they were talking about, Deanna didn't care. She did notice, however, when they all stopped their gossiping as soon as she entered the room.

 _Get used to it,_ she told herself. _Not everyone is happy to have you back._

A small nod and a polite smile were all she could muster. They returned the gestures and fled, off to find a new place to chatter.

Jack nudged her shoulder. "You alright?"

 _No_. "Yeah, I'm fine," _Liar_. "So, no Angel, huh?"

Jack shook his head, filling each of their mugs. "Haven't heard from him," He paused, handing her the coffee. "I'm kinda surprised we even heard from you."

 _You wouldn't have had Evelyn not been...whatever._ "Yeah, well, you know me. Full of surprises."

"So you just thought you could come to my house and drink my coffee without givin' me a hug?" A familiar voice joked from behind her.

Deanna grinned, turning to see none other than Jerry himself. "Hey, brother. Nice digs."

He ruffled her hair before pulling her into an embrace. "How ya been holdin' up, Dee?"

She shrugged, swallowing another gulp of her coffee. "Been better."

He nodded, "Chicago looks like it's been treatin' you well."

"Yeah, well," She smirked. "There's no place like home."

"Yeah, sure," Jerry smiled. He turned to Jack and gestured to the living room. "Go check on the girls, would you?"

Jack nodded, clapping Jerry on the shoulder and shooting Dee a grin before sauntering off.

Jerry turned to Dee, face serious and hands on his hips. She snorted. "You know, when you do that, you kinda look like Ma."

"Bobby's here."

Deanna swallowed. She couldn't tell if the fluttering in her stomach was butterflies or nausea. She was hoping for the latter. "Yeah, you mentioned that. Where's he at?"

"In the back. Talking to Green and his partner. I don't think he came just for Ma's funeral, Dee."

 _He ain't the only one._ "It's Bobby, Jer. What did you expect?"

Jerry scoffed, running a hand over his head. "Dee, I can't. I _cannot_ have him tearin' up Detroit lookin' for…" He paused. Deanna frowned. He continued. "I hate this. Dee, I can't _stand_ this, but I have a family now. I have a wife and kids. I got enough to worry about. I won't be able to save him."

"You won't have to," A gruff voice said from over her shoulder.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. She hadn't expected him to come around so soon. She was hoping for more time, at least enough to prepare herself. A hand rested on the small of her back, and even with two layers on, she still felt the heat. "Jerry, you mind givin' us a sec?"

 _No. Jerry, no, do_ not _'give us just a sec'. Jerry, you fuck, don't leave me with him!_

Jerry nodded warily, eyes flickering back and forth between the two. She still hadn't seen Bobby's face. She wasn't sure she wanted to. "Let's just keep it civil, y'all," Jerry warned. "Not the time or the place."

"Quit preachin', Jerry," Bobby huffed to his brother, who then made his leave.

Deanna knew she'd need a drink after this. Wait, was it too early to drink? Probably.

"Deanna."

She turned around.

He looked the same and so different all at once. His hair was still slicked back, but the facial hair was new, and he was still the muscle-bound jock he'd always been. His face had matured, but not enough to really notice. Just a few more creases around the eyes. He looked fucking miserable, though. That she had expected.

"Bobby."

He didn't say another word. He just looked to be inspecting her the same way she had with him. God, she hated this. She could only imagine what he was thinking.

"You look good," He finally said, quietly. Not great but better than nothing, she supposed. There was more he wanted to say, she could tell, but he kept it to himself.

"Thanks, Bobby," She said, fixing him with a small grin. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad, after all.

"I gotta say, it's a damn shame that it takes my mother dying for you to pick up the fucking phone."

Nevermind.

"Don't start, Bobby," Deanna grunted, taking a step away from him. "I'm not here for this."

Bobby scoffed. "Then what the fuck are you here for, Dee?"

Deanna shook her head. She didn't owe him an explanation. In fact, she didn't owe anyone shit. She came to grieve, to see her family, and to find out who the fuck killed Evelyn Mercer. End of fuckin' discussion. "Don't worry about it, Bobby," She settled with. "I'll be out of here by the end of the week."

The oldest Mercer barked out a single laugh, casting Deanna a look of steel. "Yeah, I've heard that one before."

"Why you gotta be this way, huh?" She snapped. "Why can't we just be adults about shit? Why is it always such a goddamn fight with you?"

"Oh, you haven't even seen a goddamn fight with me, sweetheart," Bobby seethed. His breath fanned over her face and fluttered her lashes. It smelled of cigarettes, mint, and coffee, and it made her chest ache. Fuck. She almost missed him.

"Bobby," Deanna spoke as carefully as she could, trying her hardest to keep the tremors out of her voice. "I don't want to fight with you, alright? I just want to know what the hell happened. As soon as we can figure that out, I'll be outta here. Is that okay with you?"

He didn't say anything for a minute or two, his hazel eyes flicking back and forth between her gray ones. She just hoped it was enough to keep him from making a scene. Finally, he sighed, taking a step back. "We're havin' Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow at the house. Ma would be pissed if you didn't show up."

She nodded. "I'll be there."

"Good," He grunted. "Don't be late."

And then he left.

Deanna's eyes lifted to the ceiling. _I don't know how you put up with him, Ma. But I promise I'll do my best. Only for you._

* * *

 _ **Sorry for the super late update. If y'all haven't given up on this story, you mind leaving some reviews? They definitely help clear up my writer's block. Lots of love, Z.**  
_


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